


Discombobulate: A Collection of Short Stories

by Hypsidium



Category: Extreme Ghostbusters (Cartoon), Ghostbusters (Movies), Ghostbusters - All Media Types, The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypsidium/pseuds/Hypsidium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years ago my interest in Ghostbusters was renewed with a vigor - it comes in cycles for me. This is a collection of short stories from around 2011. Most are set in the Extreme Ghostbusters continuity but some are movie centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bound

Egon sighed and swiped a bared arm across his forehead, removing his glasses to get at the sweat threatening to enter his eyes. The basement was becoming quickly hot and their work was delicate and tedious.

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ray asked for the fifth time, concern evident in his brown eyes.

 

"Yes." It was a simple answer, he had already explained himself and felt no need to retread that ground. "Where's Slimer?"

 

"I gave him a few pizzas and told him if he ate slow I'd tell him where the cookies were...He'll be preoccupied in the kitchen for a little while."

 

"Good. This hinges on his involvement."

 

"Yeah, I know." Ray scrubbed a chalky hand against the back of his neck, staring down at the floor. "Are you sure?"

 

"Raymond." Egon closed his eyes, tapping his own stick of chalk to his temple. "If I was not sure I would have never asked you to come assist."

 

"Yeah, but...I just don't feel right about this."

 

Egon just sighed, getting up from his crouch and ignoring the aches that accompanied it. He walked over, careful not to disturb the lines tracing the floor, the candles resting at the Cardinal directions and the smaller candles representative of the elements. "Assist me, please."

 

He removed his shirt, glancing in the mirror briefly and running a hand through his hair - out of the usual style and draping around his face annoyingly. No hair products today, nothing but plain unscented soap. He carefully wiped away the chalk smudges on his palms and temple; it wouldn't do to have any contaminants. 

 

Ray made a soft sound of protest, but helped anyway; he knew what had to be done. 

 

Egon stood very still as Ray traced the patterns of Chakra across his chest and back. He painted over the pants Egon was wearing - plain cotton, undyed, no synthetics. With nothing left to do, he stepped into the center of the circle while Ray called Slimer down.

 

Egon made a silent vow never to experiment on the spud again after this. The latent energy from his occult summoning would be integral in this, and for that alone he felt there could be nothing more he would ever be able to really deny the glob of goo.

 

Slimer hovered over him as told, looking confused. 

 

Ray swallowed and lifted the spell book, holding up a long match. "You were born in Winter?"

 

"Autumn." 

 

"Alright, face West then, the white candle."

 

Egon complied, aligning his body exactly with the lines. He placed his hands over his heart, closed his eyes and waited while Ray began a steady chant behind him. It was then he found that having yourself spiritually bound to a location was exceptionally painful.

 

It was worth it to know that well after their deaths everything would be taken care of.


	2. Quiet and Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Egon and Janine centric.

Morning crept up as quiet as a cat, casting the kitchen in a hue of pink and gold. Her hands moved automatically, shedding her thick wool coat on a chair in the dining area and preparing the pot for its life giving nectar. Outside the wind howled, inside the coffee percolated. 

 

"Morning," mumbled the proprietor as he shambled in, attracted by the alluring scent of caffeinated goodness. He poured a cup for her and for himself (and promptly ruined his with an excessive amount of cream and sugar), then took them to the table where he spent several moments just staring at it while it cooled. There were bags under his eyes.

 

She settled across from him, adding her own, far more reasonable, dab of cream. "Late night?"

 

"Mm." He muttered something about some invention or another that just would not work as it was meant to on paper.

 

"You'll figure it out." She blew on her coffee and took a drink. 

 

They sat in companionable silence until she finished her coffee and went downstairs to take the phones off of night. For thirty minutes each morning it would be this way; still and peaceful, lacking in the usual chaos and destruction and distraction. Just still.

 

In those quiet moments he belonged to her and no one else.


	3. Drive It Like You Stole It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roland takes the Ecto out for a spin.

The car rumbles along the country road, crumbled asphalt rattling under the tires. He flexes his hands on the steering wheel, watching the scenery go by. His errand - a cooler of some kind of vile smelling ectoplasm - is securely buckled into the back seat. Apparently it has been oozing out of the township's little public library. He had been the only one available on a slow Monday afternoon, so he had been sent out to retrieve a sample so that when the teams appointment with the township came up they would have more data to go on. At least he's getting paid for the time.

 

He looks out across the mowed fields, no city nor soul in sight. He directs his attention down at the speedometer.

 

50 miles per hour.

 

He pushes the old vehicle a little faster, knowing it can handle it from experience and the fact he had just given it a tune up before leaving. He knows that _he_ could handle it.

 

60 miles per hour.

 

The car growls in approval. The road whips past and he knows he can avoid all the jostling potholes no problem.

 

70 miles per hour.

 

The wind whistles past the equipment on the roof in a shriek of joy. He cherishes this momentary lapse in law abiding, knowing that the opportunity may never come again.

 

80 miles per hour. 

 

And for several wonderful minutes Roland and Ecto just fly, machine and man in perfect harmony.


	4. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An observation based on character design changes.

"You know, I don't remember your eyes being so dark when we were younger." 

The comment drifted out of the still air, interrupting the comfortable quiet. Her head rested against his shoulder and he couldn't see her expression, but her voice indicated a mild amount of puzzlement. She turned a page in her book.

He squeezed her arm lightly, formulating a reasonably plausible reply. "Eye color can change in around 10 to 15 percent of the Caucasian population, particularly with light colored eyes, as pigment deposits may change..." he let himself ramble onwards, offering up Occam's Razor.

He couldn't bring himself to let her know that while his heart belonged to her his soul belonged to a dilapidated firehouse.

And that one day he would leave her again.


	5. More Than Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eduardo feels like he needs to be more.

Eduardo did not consider himself a clever man or a skilled man. What he did consider himself was a man who could get by okay, if only by the skin of his teeth. Sometimes it just wasn't enough though and he felt himself wanting so much more out of life.

He could cook a pizza just fine, he could dance a little, he could shoot a spook better than Roland, he could play cards pretty good, and he could maintain an apartment on a shoestring thin budget. He could pass his classes reasonably well for his partial scholarship.

He couldn't cook almost anything else, he had an awful singing voice, he was often clumsy, he lost at chess to Slimer of all things, and he often found himself struggling at the end of every month to pay for all the extra things. Having the extra job meant that he was dog tired all the time and slept in on some of his lectures.

Worst of all, there was this girl at work. Not just any girl, but this girl. Every day he felt the urge to ask her out - dinner, a movie, a dance club, the library even. Anything, anywhere, so long as he could spend time with her. Eduardo considered himself okay with the ladies, and he could think of entertaining things to do that wouldn't break his budget right in half.

The problem was, for this girl, he knew that he had to more than just okay.


	6. Uninvited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie!verse Egon and Janine.

By the time they reached the ground floor of Dana’s apartment building Louis had thrown up twice, Dana had to be carried several flights, and Ray had vowed over and over to make jet packs feasible.

Egon had to admit that the idea of powered flight was at least theoretically possible, merely improbable to do safely. It bore more research though, especially in a situation in which elevators were not available for easy transportation.

Regardless, they had, against all odds, reached the ground floor. Marshmallow had flooded the street, leaving them a bank of stickiness four feet deep to wade through. Egon was mildly concerned about the packs being capable of operation with the goop clogging the reactors and made a mental note to check them each for potentially hazardous leaks.

Light from the risen sun streamed through broken windows, casting patterns on the mess like monochromatic stained glass on dirty snow. Still, it was surprisingly good to be on firm ground and out of the unnatural dark.

They exited to the crowd chanting their name, screaming in joy and quite possibly hysteria from the events of the past few hours.

Egon had to admit, he felt a touch hysterical himself. Death was not something he considered a concern; it happened, it would eventually happen, and it was just another inevitable physical truth. He felt little need to concern himself with such an abstract concept as his own existential cessation when there was far more important work to be done.

He had, quite simply, just never cared that much one way or another.

He waved to the crowd distractedly, giving them a forced smile when Raymond jabbed him in the ribs. Someone called his name off to the left and he turned just in time to see Janine punch a cop in the eye, break through the police line, and come barreling at him.

His smile this time was honest and he caught her in his arms even though she nearly knocked him backwards. He noticed she had thrown on a coat and a head scarf before coming, very sensible that woman. He regretted not having had her foresight, marshmallow would undoubtedly be difficult to remove from hair.

Caught in the moment, he shouted out the first thing that came to mind over the din of the crowd, a rarity for him. “You should marry me!”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corner as she touched his face. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

 

~~~

 

“You should know that you are marrying into a distinguished family.”

“What?” She looked genuinely confused.

He glanced down at their interlinked hands. “I mean to imply that you will be taken care of, regardless of happenstance.”

Ray ducked his head in the front seat, crouching over the wheel and obviously trying not to listen in.

“Who says I want taken care of?” She narrowed her eyes at him fractionally.

He paused. It had not really occurred to him that she wouldn’t know what family he was from. In Ohio the Spenglers were well known as a pharmaceutical dynasty. In New York it was likely she had never heard of them. He had become accustomed to the opposite sex being more interested in his family’s wealth than in him in particular and it struck him that this woman was more honest than any woman he had ever dated before.

How curious.

The courthouse was fairly empty when they went the following day, signed their papers with Raymond as witness, and left. He sat in the back seat of the converted ambulance with her on the way back to the firehouse to resume the extensive clean up process. Janine, after his diatribe on taking care of her, had insisted on retaining her last name. 

It had still been a good lunch break, all things considered.

 

~~~

 

“Janine.”

“Yeah?” She stomped past him into the kitchen, flinging her purse down onto the couch as she passed. 

He watched her go without commentary on her behavior. Beyond his view he could hear pots and pans being moved around in what he supposed was anger.

“It has come to my attention that you may or may not be involved in a dalliance with Louis Tully.” It did not surprise him, he hadn’t spent the night in their apartment for well over two months and, though they saw each other in passing at work, it simply did not seem to be enough for her. She had her needs, and he only meant to address the issue if it could be addressed.

“Oh?” Sounds other than her voice ceased.

He waited for her to continue.

“What are you going to do about it anyway?” She sounded strangely sad. 

“That much is up to you.” Did she think him angry? He really had little right to be angry, but he couldn’t help but be insulted by her alternative choice.

“Great. God. Do you even give a shit?” She then appeared in the doorway, as fearsome and terrible as Gozer himself. “I mean you can’t even pretend to be surprised at all. Or jealous. Or angry.”

“I find myself a bit perturbed, yes.” It was an understatement, but he felt it unnecessary to give her more fuel for the fire.

“God Egon, he was actually interested in me for crissakes...” She continued as though he had said nothing and looked sad again, slumping against the door frame.

“If I am not fulfilling my duties adequately, I apologise, but there were quite a few more immediate concerns that had to be dealt with.”

“More immediate than your wife.”

“Yes.” There was no sense in lying, and this was the one woman who did not expect him to lie to her.

“You’re such an asshole,” she choked, disappearing into the kitchen.

Egon blinked after her. He was the asshole? Of course, he had not escaped that definition, the word had been given to him more times than once, but this was the only time at which he felt he not only was not the one deserving of it but that it actually affected him. How odd that by a single word from her he could feel so strangely.

“I’m an asshole?” he queried, invading the kitchen so he could see her. She was bent to her elbows over the sink, her back shaking.

“You’re an insufferable prick. That better for ya?” She ran her hands through her hair and he noted that she must have just been ill.

“You aren’t well. Perhaps you should lie down and we can speak more about this tomorrow.”

“I’m pregnant, you jerk, and you haven’t noticed in three months.” Her shoulders shook and she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Oh.” He cast around the room, trying to digest the information. Then, as before, he said the first thing that came to mind. 

“I’m an asshole.”


	7. Dandelion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More movie!verse Egon and Janine, following up Uninvited.

Egon strode down the hallway, ignoring the nurses as they told him not to run in the building.

He was not running, he was walking. Quickly.

His goal was not really all that far, and when he had received the phone call he had simply dropped everything he had been working on at the moment. Ray had been displeased until he realized what the call was all about, at which point he had wanted to attend as well. Egon had, as politely as possible, declined to take him with him. This was something he needed to do alone.

He finally reached the section he was meant to be in, but found himself unable to locate the precise room, so turned back to ask the nurse on duty. 

She gave him a hard look until he explained the situation and his less-than-sterile clothing. With a nod she wrote a few directions on a piece of scrap paper and handed it back to him that he might complete his journey.

Finding it after that was simple really, but entering suddenly stilled his feet where they stood and he paused in the doorway, feeling both exhilarated and unwelcome. But still, he had been called, and therefore the invitation had been extended. He entered quietly.

Of course her family would be there. It made sense, though the looks he was given as they filed out were less than friendly. He cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back for lack of a better place to put them.

“Why are you standing clear over there? There’s a chair here,” she beckoned for him to sit at her side, which he obeyed wordlessly.

“That’s better. So.” Janine folded her hands across her chest.

“So,” he repeated, mumbled the words to the railing on the bed.

“1:34.”

“Beg your pardon?” He looked up, furrowing his brows at her.

“In the morning.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened. “That’s quite early.”

“Mmhm, tell me about it.” She smiled, closing her eyes for a moment. “Do you want to see...?”

“Yes.” He almost cut her off in his hurry.

“Then help me up, I’ve been sitting on my ass for the past six hours and I need to stretch anyway.”

“Won’t the nurses-”

“Ah what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

He gave her a dubious look, but bent to assist her regardless and actually focused on her face for the first moment since arriving. 

She looked like hell, her hair plastered with sweat, bags under her eyes, and face devoid of makeup.

It was the most beautiful she’d ever been.

“You should marry me.” The words spilled unbidden. He paused, reconsidered. “Again, that is.”

She had the grace to chuckle as he put slippers on her feet. “I think that’s what got us into this mess, Dr Spengler.”

“Pardon me if I do not think of this as a ‘mess’.” He slid an arm under hers and carefully shifted her to her feet, holding an elbow out for her to steady herself on.

“Potato, potato. Let’s go.”

And so they shuffled slowly - agonizingly so - to a windowed room where his eyes automatically searched for something light blue.

“That one,” she pointed. “Third from the right, first row.”

Pink. He blinked twice and glanced back down at her, but she wasn’t looking at him, she was smiling at the indiscernible mass clothed in pink terrycloth. Spenglers were generally born male, a strange but common occurrence in their family. The last girl had been his cousin, and she was nearing 53.

He looked back at the bundle, unable to really see anything, so he read the name tag instead. 

S., Imogene.

He looked back down at Janine, who swayed a little on her feet and clung to the crook of his arm. He carefully placed that arm around her shoulders and stilled her wavering himself. “Imogene?”

“Mmhm. It’s Gaelic.”

Like his own name. He was unsure if that was planned or not. “S? For...?”

“Spengler. She’s your daughter too.”

He looked back through the window as a nurse picked up the pink amorphous mass and unwrapped it like a present, revealing a tiny pink skinned creature with a tuft of hair of an indeterminate color. She made some sort of noise as the nurse re-applied the swaddling, but the window was sound proofed and he couldn’t hear anything.

Egon was fairly certain he had felt love - true and unconditional love - for the first time in that brief moment. He looked back down at Janine, seeing the same emotion reflected in her tired eyes. She looked so exhausted that he carefully hefted her into his arms, intending to carry her back to her room.

“You know, you should marry me.” He said calmly as they trekked back to the room, her trying to keep her gown down.

She laughed, looping an arm around his neck. She was so limp and almost frail in that moment he was afraid she might shatter to pieces. “I’ll think about it.”

“Take your time.”

“Mm.” She curled against him sleepily. 

They said no more until she was back in her room and laid down in her bed. He sat alongside, folding his hands back into his lap.

“If you wait a couple hours, you can hold her after she’s fed. They just took her back after everyone in my family just had to poke and prod her, so it’s probably better to let her rest a while.” Janine had her eyes closed.

“I would like that very much.” He looked down at his hands.

“Want to read to me in the meantime? My books on the table there.” She made a vague gesture in the direction of the end table.

He smiled, looking back up at her. “Yes, I suppose I could.”

“Thank you.” She flopped an arm over her eyes as he reached out and took her book from the table, flipping it open to her marker.

“I’m still of the opinion you should re-marry me.”

“Oh, shut up.”


	8. Get What You Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Extreme!verse Egon and Janine. This is one of the short stories I was less pleased with, so if you choose to review keep in mind that I know it's a little ham fisted--

Crash!

“Whoz-a-wha-!” The noise startled Eduardo from his nap. He jerked upright in the recliner, almost toppling it. He recovered his balance and blinked, rubbing an eye with the base of his palm. 

“What-?” he grumbled, glancing over at Garrett, who was putting his Playstation controller down on the coffee table. A soccer game blinked on the screen, frozen mid-goal by pause.

“What’s the big idea?” Eduardo scowled, but Garrett, uncharacteristically quiet, held up a hand for silence.

“-think that was really necessary.” Egon’s voice drifted up from the ground floor. 

“Oh, that was entirely necessary!” Janine was incensed. 

Slimer, who had been napping on the couch, made a keening noise and fled through the wall with a messy squelch.

Garrett and Eduardo exchanged a glance. Eduardo felt a stab of apprehension; it never ceased to make him feel ill at ease whenever they argued, which was becoming increasingly often. Janine had recently been meeting up with some guy every day after work, which in his opinion wasn’t such a bad thing. The guy seemed to be nice, and Janine was generally in a better mood this week compared to the last. Egon, however...

“I doubt that,” his tone was as acidic as it ever got for the professor. “You’re over-reacting.”

“Should we be listening to this?” Eduardo muttered to his companion. “Sounds kind of personal.”

Garrett glared, though the look didn’t hold any anger at Eduardo himself. “You seen how the prof’s been acting lately, or you just blind? He’s being a total douche to her.”

Eduardo shrugged. He honestly tried not to get into the middle of Egon and Janine’s tiffs, feeling he would live a lot longer. Downstairs he could hear their argument getting more and more heated.

“He just told her she had to stay overtime, after she came in early to get things done.”

“So? She stays late lots of times...” Eduardo scratched a hand through his hair, knowing the argument was weak at best.

“That’s the point, she stays late, comes in early, and the one day she asks to get off early for dinner out the prof shuts her down.” Garrett hefted himself into his wheelchair, rolling over and shutting off the Playstation. “I’m not staying here for this.”

“Better wait until they leave at least,” Eduardo cautioned.

“You can’t have it both ways!” Janine’s snarl echoed.

Whatever Egon said, it was so low they couldn’t make it out.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? I might not have an IQ on the MENSA level, but I know damn well what’s going on here.”

Garrett wheeled over to the elevator, looking down into the garage. Janine’s desk was devoid of anything but the ancient computer monitor. A pile of papers a foot high was scattered to one side, joined by the desk lamp and a potted Geranium she had recently brought from home. Eduardo winced internally; she doted on that plant, having it spilled out onto the floor was not a good thing.

“You’re making assumptions about me, trying to control my life outside of work, and I have had it up to here with your waffling. I quit!” Janine jerked her purse out of her desk drawer and kicked it closed savagely. 

Egon stood away from her, arms crossed and chin raised, glaring down his nose at her. It was as cold a look as either Eduardo or Garrett had ever seen him give anyone. Janine stormed away accompanied by the swift clatter of heels on concrete, slamming the entry door behind her hard enough to rattle the larger vehicle door.

“Whoa,” Eduardo muttered, unable to stop himself.

Egon looked up at them, regarding them with an only marginally less cool expression. It made Eduardo’s spine crawl. “What? She’ll be back, she always comes back.”

“I wouldn’t,” Garrett snorted, wheeling onto the elevator with Eduardo at his back. It was cramped that way, but Eduardo really didn’t care to take the stairs down with Egon looming at the bottom of them.

Egon said nothing, just turned and stalked back into the office. 

“Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole to her...” Garrett started, only to be cut off by Egon abruptly turning around.

“You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for that woman. None.” The professor approached, his shoulders set stiffly.

Garrett was not impressed. He crossed his arms and leaned back to look up at the tall man, staring him down. “You jumping down her throat because she wants to have dinner with her friend, that’s sacrifice? If this is how you treat people you ‘sacrifice’ for, I don’t want anything to do with it. I’m outta here.” He turned and rolled towards the door, every motion of his arms an indication of his seething anger. 

Eduardo didn’t blame him. Garrett thought of Janine sort of like their den mother, the woman who kept the whole business running. The professor was hopeless with their finances and day to day tasks when he was caught up in an experiment, which left Janine as the one who most often took charge, gave orders, and got things done. If someone needed anything, she was the one to turn to.

Now that he thought of it, she really did get the raw end of the deal every time. 

Egon stared heatedly at Garrett’s back as he left. “I suppose you want to presume to lecture me too?” he snarled at Eduardo without diverting his glower.

Eduardo’s knee-jerk reaction was to get defensive, deflect the verbal attack and make it into something he could handle. He bit a scathing comment back. “No, man. Just gotta wonder how you treat a lady like that and expect her to stay.” 

He scratched his head again, looking at the ceiling. He felt uncomfortable, torn between wanting to leave and having no reason to go home to where Carl was surely getting off work. Following Garrett had seemed like a good idea at first, but now he was weighing his options. One argument was almost as bad as the other, but at least here there was no way it could end with anything physical. Egon was many things, but he wasn’t the sort to resort to ending a disagreement with fists.

Eduardo thumbed his broken nose thoughtfully. It had been years, but still...

“She means everything to me. You kids do know that, right?” The professor looked at him, his demeanor shifting dramatically. His shoulders went lax, his brow furrowed. A sincere and sadly asked question.

“Then why you always gotta be so...I dunno. You hint and then you back off like she’s nothing special. It’s not fair. It’s like a cycle, one week it’s all great and the next you’re back upstairs like nothing ever happened.” 

“It’s not really your business...”

“Oh hell no. You can’t ask and then act like I’m the one being nosey.” Eduardo snorted at his elder, annoyed.

“It’s really not something I should be talking to a 19 year old about,” Egon stated, dryly. “I’m 40 years old, not some kid fresh out of college.”

“Try me. I got more life experience than you give me credit for.” The Latino thought of his mother, and his maternal aunt with whom he and Carlos had lived after his mother.

Egon grimaced, and looked as though he were going to dismiss the conversation entirely, before he spoke again. “Several years ago, right before we closed down for good, Janine was...under the influence of a very powerful water spirit. It manipulated her, made her think that she had to change who she was. For me. And she did, over the course of a couple years she lost her accent, her eyes changed color; a lot of drastic things. We didn’t notice until we looked in an album.”

“Damn,” Eduardo murmured. 

“We saved her, got her back. I told her that I loved her, and I meant it as much then as I do now. We even dated briefly...” there was an element of wistfulness in the way he said it.

“Wait, back up. She already knows all that? Like, not just hints, but in words knows?” Eduardo gawked at him as though he’d grown a second head.

The professor shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. As the spell was wearing off, her memory of most of the incident faded. It was as though it had never happened. Huge swathes of her life, blotted out and replaced with more reasonable explanations. She dyed her hair and changed her style, went to a speech therapist, wore contacts...And decided that most of it just wasn’t for her.” 

Egon rubbed his temples. “Telling her otherwise would have made her relive the whole thing. Years of damage to her self esteem. Peter thought the memories might come back on their own, but...”

“Alright, that’s a given...” Eduardo folded his arms, leaning back against the staircase. “But why not just try to make things right after the fact? What about the others, didn’t they say anything?” 

“I couldn’t attract danger to her like that. If we were actually involved every entity that hated me would want her gone first. I could never wish that upon her.” Egon shuddered. “Can you imagine?”

“Yeah, I can,” Eduardo’s thoughts drifted to another woman, one who didn’t think very highly of him but thanked him each time he saved her skin anyway. “But you’re still not taking into account her feelings. Didn’t all the spooks vanish?”

“Slimer never did, it’s why I never really thought it was permanent...” Egon sighed, looking skyward. 

“You still didn’t consider her, just you,” the nineteen-year-old pointed out.

“I don’t see how. I put her safety above all else...” The doctor protested, offended at the assumption he wasn’t thinking of her.

“But not how she feels, and dropping hints when you won’t get involved is just inhumane. Besides, you jumped down her throat about her seeing her friend tonight anyway.”

“Well...”

“The dude is flaming. Not into her, not into women at all. We could all tell just from how he acted around her.”

“...Oh,” Egon had the grace to look abashed.

“You’ve only got one shot to fix this, or she’s gonna walk out of here and never look back.”

“She’ll be back tomorrow.”

“What makes you so sure?” Eduardo was skeptical at best.

“She left her raincoat and her Geranium,” Egon smiled wanly. “She’ll be back for them early tomorrow, when class should be meeting.”

“Should?”

“Class is cancelled for tomorrow. I have some things to think about...In the meantime, would you mind contacting the others?” Egon turned away from him, heading for the stairs.

Eduardo quickly got the hint. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll get in touch with them. Adios.”

\--

When Janine shuffled out of the impending weather outside into the Firehouse the next day she was sure to close the door quietly behind her. She couldn’t help muttering her mental checklist to herself as she picked her way across the garage, her path illuminated by the light streaming through the only slightly grimy windows. 

“Coat, Geranium, picture of Aunt Lois, write my last paycheck, submit termination forms...” went the items, under her breath. She rounded Ecto-1, taking her time to look at the car, knowing it would be the last she looked at it close up and admired it for all its work.

The last thing she expected was Egon Spengler sitting at her - now straightened, just as she had left it the first time - desk, hands interlaced in front of him, and looking up at her over his glasses with a mix of apprehension and expectancy.

Outside the sky cracked open and there was a rush as the rain fell. The smell seeped in through the poorly insulated doors.

She only paused for a moment, then crossed her arms defensively. “You were supposed to be in class.”

“So were you,” he countered, more calmly than he had any right whatsoever to be.

She narrowed her eyes at him, all the anger from yesterday threatening to boil over once more. She was unable to help the growl of frustration that slipped through her teeth as she turned on her heel and stalked out the door right into the rain.

She jerked short, closed her eyes, and decided she was already wet regardless as she stomped over to the corner and drew up her fingers to issue a piercing whistle at the nearest taxi, which promptly pulled over to rescue her from the mess she was in.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her from getting in the cab, but it was not the hand that kept her from shouting. It was the lips abruptly crashing without ceremony into hers, ill practiced and stiff with nerves.

She felt every muscle in her body go rigid and limp at the same time, a wave of shivers passing over her spine.

He pulled back a few centimeters. “I love you, Janine Melnitz, and I will be damned to all seven circles of Hell if I ever let you walk away from me again.”

She reared back an arm and slugged him right in the face, knocking his glasses clean off onto the pavement where they skittered amongst the puddles. And immediately regretted it.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard...” She bit her lip, putting her now sore knuckles to her mouth. 

“It-it’s alright, I very much deserved it,” he croaked, holding his right eye and squinting at her blindly through the left. 

She reached down and retrieved his spectacles from the cold concrete, giving them a look over to stall for time. “I hope I didn’t crack the lenses...”

“I switched to plastic years ago, and my spares are upstairs regardless,” he stated.

She looked up at him then, meeting his one open blue eye, and her voice cracked as she grinned in a watery sort of way, not sure whether to cry or laugh. “We’re a mess, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are,” he smiled back, an openly fond expression that seemed to fall into place so naturally.

“Hey lady, you riding or not?” the cabby chose that moment to butt in. “‘Cause this is all real romantic and all, but I got kids to feed you know.”

Egon grunted and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and from that whatever the first three bills happened to be. He clumsily tossed them onto the passenger seat. “I believe the colloquial is ‘beat it’ and ‘keep the change’.”

Janine hid her quavering smile behind her fist, handing Egon back his glasses as the cab drove off.

“I believe both of us are in dire need of dry clothes, a long talk, and hot cocoa. In more or less that given order,” he murmured, reaching a hand out cautiously lest she break it for his insolence.

Janine didn’t bother to answer, she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, shivering with both joy and years of pent up pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--but writing Janine punching him square in the face was a lot more fun than I really want to admit.


	9. Bitter Sweet Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extreme!verse Egon and Janine, set after The Crawler.

“Eat this!” Janine’s voice echoed in the warehouse. The living walls chattered in response as Cohila was sucked into the trap, so shocked he could only make a wordless wail as he was sucked into the trap once and for all. Around him the tiny bug minions swirled, entering with him.

 

Egon supposed that was only natural, since they shared one mind and thus were probably so closely related as to be nigh indistinguishable. He would have to look into it later, they were very fortunate that it had worked. But for now, there were more important things for him to worry about. Namely the fact Janine was left nude after the transformation and was trying in vain to both scuttle for something to hide behind and cover herself at the same time. The wings evaporated into her back, leaving tiny lines where they had broken the skin.

 

He stumbled away from where his feet had been planted and slung the pack off his back, dropping it to the floor as carelessly as he could afford to drop a nuclear accelerator. Behind him, Garrett was struggling to do the same, but Eduardo beat him to the punch, removing his pack and swinging his vest off his shoulders and around Janine’s. She glanced up at him with a crooked, grateful smile. Kylie shooed him away and stood in front of her while the boys, without prompting, unanimously went to get the car. 

 

Egon ignored them as they went by, stepping out of his flight suit and handing it over to Kylie, turning his back politely. He’d worn his usual underthings beneath it and really wasn’t as concerned about the rest of them seeing him in his boxers as he was about Janine having nothing to clothe herself in. After a moment he realized her clothes might still be somewhere in the warehouse and left them to go find her things, starting with the catwalk she had come down from with Cohila.

 

A few minutes later all he’d found of her things were the shredded remains of her suit jacket and her glasses, one of the lenses cracked. He left the jacket, but hooked her glasses over his collar to take down with him so she’d at least be able to see. While she wasn’t nearly as myopic as he was, he was aware that she had some difficulties without them. He ‘hm’d to himself, trying to recall if their insurance would cover the loss of her spectacles in the event she was involved. It had been worked out so that his were replaced, but he was unsure if it counted since Janine wasn’t officially on the roster for ghostbusting.

 

He climbed back down the ladder, brow furrowed thoughtfully. There was a lot to digest from over the course of two days, much of it out of his field of expertise, to put it lightly. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, unable to shake the sensation of deja vu. Which was not entirely inaccurate, because nearly this exact same thing had happened ten damn years ago, and then too it had really been his fault in the end.

 

He just kept failing her. 

 

He would have asked for her resignation when they returned, but that would have translated to also requiring her to drop his class or be dropped from it forcibly, and he couldn’t potentially ruin her academic career like that. No, he would need to wait to ask for it until after the fall semester was over and she had graduated. He absently fingered the frames of her glasses, plucking them from his collar and trying to clean what we left of them. It preoccupied his hands.

 

Kylie brushed by him with a soft punch to his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. She gave him a look that reminded him all too much of Peter Venkman as she passed, grabbing his pack on her way.

 

Which left him alone with Janine, who had picked her way across the floor barefoot over to him. He tried to avoid her eyes, holding out her glasses. 

 

“Here, I found them up there...One of the lenses is cracked I’m afraid, we’ll see if we can get them replaced by the insurance for you...If not, I’ll buy them for you.”

 

She took the glasses, but ignored what he was saying, smiling up at him with that same sad, crooked smile. “I’ll take that kiss now.” Her head tilted upwards expectantly.

 

“Oh! Ha! That...” Egon tried desperately to backpedal, his eyes darting around the warehouse. “Well you see, that was just to break you from Cohila’s g-” 

 

Hands seized his undershirt and nearly hauled him off his feet. It successfully dragged him down enough for her lips to press to his hard and urgently. He froze for fear of upsetting a balance he had set in place years ago.

 

She had no idea how desperately he wanted to respond in kind.

 

“Think about that next time I ask you out on a date,” she smiled, letting him go and patting his chest.

 

He watched her go for a moment before slowly following her, frowning at the floor of the warehouse. 

 

The ride back to the firehouse was done in complete silence aside from Garrett’s initial congratulation on Janine “being the ultimate bad ass!”

 

Once they arrived Janine immediately claimed the shower and the kids dispersed, mostly at Kylie’s unsubtle insistence. She grinned at her professor before she left, wishing him good luck. Even Slimer had disappeared somewhere.

 

That girl didn’t know a damn thing.

 

He gathered an old t-shirt and shorts - remnants of when he was a younger man and probably the only things he owned that would even fit Janine - dressed himself in slacks and another old t-shirt, and waited. He’d give her a ride home at least, her day had been horrible.

 

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep on the couch, but the next thing he was aware of was a gentle weight pressing into his side.

 

“Egon?”

 

“Yes, Janine?” He said softly, unsure of where to put his arms now.

 

“I remember. A lot of things. But I remember the Fairy Godmother, and what she did...” She looked up at him; hurt, sad, and even afraid. “Why would you keep that from me?”

 

Damnation.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gathering an arm around her shoulders. “We were afraid that if we told you the effects could return. Or it would cause you severe emotional trauma. None of us wanted you to relive that.”

 

“That’s not fair. That isn’t good enough.” She pushed away from him abruptly, crossing her arms over the no-ghost symbol emblazoned in faded colors across her chest, closing herself off. “None of you ever considered what I would have wanted. You especially. Why would you just...Up and forget about me?”

 

“I never forgot about you, Janine.”

 

“Yes you did, you stopped seeing me and just...stopped everything. I heard from you on the holidays and on my birthday, and damn it if that wasn’t ‘emotionally traumatic’ then I don’t know what is!” She stood up, pacing and moving her hands in gestures of frustration. 

 

“Ten years! Ten of my best years! The last five of them I thought it was something I did wrong, or I was the problem! And I eventually convinced myself that it was you. And I was right.” She stopped pacing, looking down at him.

 

Egon had never felt more terrified in his life. Somehow even death was not nearly as large a threat. He had nothing left in him, no words to offer in consolation or his defense except three.

 

“I love you.”

 

She slapped him and tears spilled over from her eyes. “You...you have no right...”

 

He didn’t reach up to touch his stinging face, but looked back up at her. “I love you, and I’m so very sorry...”

 

“You asshole!” She slapped him again with a sob, on the other cheek. Lovely, a matched set. He stood and caught her hands, keeping them far away from his face. He didn’t squeeze them or restrain her, just prevented her from striking him again. “I mean it, and I want you to listen to me. Sit back down?”

 

She sat, glowering at him with watery eyes.

 

He took her hands in his, ignoring her flinch, and ran his thumbs over her knuckles soothingly. “I would not have kept everything from you if I had not loved you as much as I do. I’d not have stayed here either, I’d have gone back to Ohio.” He paused, searching her face for confirmation and finding none. He cleared his throat and continued quickly.

 

“We were afraid it would be significantly stressful, and due to the nature of your memory loss there was the potential for it to be disastrous to your physical health too. I imagine the exposure to a mind altering supernatural being has reversed the mental effects, though your eyes appear more blue than they did previously.”

 

She said nothing. 

 

“Do you understand?” He furrowed his brow, and his stomach felt as turbulent as a raging sea.

 

Janine regarded him for a moment, freeing her hands and rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I don’t think I’ll ever really understand...But I can forgive. Probably not now, but eventually. Maybe.”

 

The sea broke against the shore. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

 

She sniffed, straightening, and he recognised her naming her terms. “I want dinner. Not take-out, not fast food, but a real, honest-to-God dinner.”

 

“Alright.” He owed her that much, and more.

 

She chewed her lip for a minute and he cleared his throat, staring down at his hands for the duration of the silence that fell over them. “...Would you like some hot cocoa?”

 

“Yeah, sure...” She drew her legs up onto the couch, wrapping her arms around them. 

 

“Are you cold? Hungry? I could make you something.” Words tumbled like water in a brook. He stood, ready for whatever action she first directed him to.

 

“I’ve had your cooking, thanks,” she said with more than a touch of sarcasm.

 

“That was only once...” he murmured, frowning.

 

“You actually managed to burn a salad. It was pretty bad.”

 

“I left it beside the Bunsen burner, that was entirely unintentional...” He pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed in the general direction of the kitchen. If Ray hadn’t been going on about that new occult book store...“I’ll go make the cocoa.”

 

“Yeah, you go do that.” The trace of humor in her voice faded and she looked away from him.

 

He left quietly, padding into the kitchen and setting a pan of milk to heat on the stove. He stirred it, completely absorbed in the mindless task. Clockwise. Counterclockwise. Clockwise. It was a good way to just...decompress. Unfortunately his knee reminded him that he needed to take an aspirin or four. He shifted his weight to the side, letting the mild arthritis from a previous fracture rest while he added the cocoa mix.

 

He then became intensely aware of a presence in the doorway and glanced over to see Janine standing there, her arms hugged around her protectively. She wasn’t looking at him, she was looking towards the window with a look of extreme apprehension.

 

“Janine? Make yourself comfortable, I’ll bring it to you,” he said, a little thrown by her expression.

 

“I’d rather just...stay right here.” Evasive, not like her.

 

“Alright...” He looked back at the steaming pan and pulled it off the burner, fetching a couple -thankfully clean- mugs from the cupboard. “Are you...okay? I’ll drive you home now if you need me to...”

 

“No!” She blurted, looking startled. “No,” she repeated, calmer. She looked back at the window, not elaborating. 

 

He watched her for a moment, allowing the cocoa to cool from boiling hot. “You are cold. At least let me get you a blanket or a robe.”

 

She caught his elbow before he could leave her in the kitchen. “I’m not okay. There’s a lot of things I’m not okay with right now, and going home is one of them. I’m scared, alright?” She sounded so defensive, as though he’d have thought less of her for being afraid. 

 

“Scared that I’m not who I’m supposed to be, or that this is some kind of dream I can’t wake up from, or I’m missing parts of myself, or that I’m crazy...” Her hands withdrew to her arms again.

 

“You’re not crazy.”

 

“One out of four, huh?” She shivered, still watching the window like she was expecting something to happen. She reached back and scratched at her shoulder, then returned her arms back to where they had been.

 

“All out of four. You’re a good woman, Janine, and every bit who you should be.” He cautiously placed his hands on her arms, rubbing them to put some warmth back into them. “Because who you should be can only be defined by you, no one else.”

 

She leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his chest, shaking miserably. “I don’t want to be alone.” It was said so softly he almost missed it. He swallowed. For Janine to admit such a thing was no doubt difficult. His shirt was suspiciously damp anyway.

 

He slid his arms carefully around her back, resting his cheek on top of her head. “Then you don’t have to be. You can stay here tonight. I’ll take the couch and make sure Slimer is with you.”

 

“Thanks,” she hiccuped. For the second time that night the heels of her palms came up to swipe at her eyes. 

 

“Of course.” He resisted the urge to kiss the top of her head. It wasn’t appropriate given the current circumstances, and he’d rather her not have just experienced a life changing realization if and when she chose to pursue a relationship with him. A comforting hug was one thing, dinner was another, but he didn’t want to violate her trust or move too quickly. Had to play these things cool, as Venkman would have said.

 

“Cocoa is probably done cooling now,” she murmured, making no motion to move away.

 

“Probably,” he agreed, and painfully pried himself apart from her to fetch the cups. 

 

They sat in silence for the better part of an hour, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, enjoying a hot beverage on a cool night. Afterwards she helped him wash up by drying for him and putting the things away, again in silence. It was all so very familiar and dreamlike, as though nothing more needed said, and yet there was much left to discuss.

 

Once the things were put away and it was well-and-truly nightfall he walked her up to his room, mostly just to reassure her with another presence until Slimer could be located to keep guard   
over her for the night. Slimer did pop up, he had been hanging around in the lab inexplicably, playing with his yo-yo. Egon gave him instructions to guard Janine until dawn, gathered a blanket, and turned to leave to the solitude of the couch.

 

Janine cleared her throat behind him. She fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “Egon...You could...Oh, nevermind.”

 

He paused, calculating his response carefully. “Do you want me to stay?”

 

She nodded, wordlessly.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Damn it, Egon,” she hissed, looking away.

 

He took that as a yes and went back to her, absently putting the blanket around her shoulders and focusing anywhere but her face. “Alright.” He caught a glimpse of Slimer, in a moment of clarity, slipping through the floorboards discretely.

 

He put an arm around her shoulders and escorted her to his bed, then got a chair from the corner and set it alongside. She smiled at him, watery and a little embarrassed.

 

He held her hand until she fell asleep.

 

Long after he had fallen asleep he woke to a weight taking roost in his lap. He remained still until she was comfortable, then wrapped an arm loosely around her. Both of them slept in various states of comfort until dawn.


	10. Can't Get No Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EGB, Janine and Egon centric. In Dog Days he sends the kids out to buy 30 pounds of mushrooms from a store which means they're probably common enough to sell. What just got interrupted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature rating for this one, folks.

Janine tapped her foot under her desk, looking at the clock on her desk for the sixth time in the past hour. It was past 7:30 and the kids were still here. She was practically grinding her teeth, and running out of paperwork besides.

Egon drifted past her desk, casting her a helpless look.

“Just kick them out, it’s your home,” she hissed.

He flapped his hands in a gesture she couldn’t identify the meaning of, if there was one, and went up the stairs.

So much for a romantic evening in. He had even promised to cook supper - she had accepted under the stipulation he get directions from his mother - and here they were well after supper time, hungry as all get out, just because the kids had chosen this night of all nights to use the Firehouse as a study hall.

She grumbled under her breath and went to find something, anything, to shred. 

Egon reappeared behind her. “Janine, where is the phone book?” he asked in a very serious tone.

“What do you need that for?” she didn’t bother looking at him as she rifled through the files. Surely there were a few junk files in the back somewhere...

“I just need it. Right now.” She heard him opening her desk drawers and turned to avert disaster before it could occur. 

“Top drawer, _don’t_ take anything else out. I want it in order.” She shook a finger at him.

“Are sandwiches alright with you?” He looked a little pale and she felt a twinge of sympathy. It was easy to forget he had mild hypoglycemia.

“Yeah, sure...” She went back to the files, calling her preference over her shoulder to him.

She had expected him to leave and find something to snack on after that, but he continued to flip through the phonebook. 

“What are you looking for?”

“A greengrocers that is as _far away_ from here as possible.”

She gave up and shut the drawer. “A what? Why?”

“I have an idea,” he stated simply, and adjusted his glasses. 

“Well, there’s one in my neighborhood...”

“No, further than that.”

“Well, how about this one?” She pointed at an entry on the page. It would take about an hour or so to drive to it in the nightly traffic.

“Perfect.” He picked up the phone and made a quick call, inquiring about mushrooms, their quantities, and kinds. Then he hung up the phone and stalked up the stairs into the living room.

Janine watched him go and shook her head with a smile. Well, at least he was taking some action.

~~~

“You need us to do what?” Garrett scratched his head.

“You must go to this address and retrieve 30 pounds of this fungus, I’ve already called ahead and told them you’re coming. With luck you should be there before they close,” Egon explained, handing Roland a slip of paper and a blank check. 

“But this is clear across town,” Roland protested, looking up from the address.

Egon cleared his throat. “I know, but it’s the only grocer in town that has what I need and Slimer seems to have eaten some of my things.” It technically wasn’t a lie; he needed them out of his home and Slimer had eaten many of his things.

Just neglecting context, that was all.

Garrett sighed and closed his book. “Alright, but you owe us boss man.”

 _You have no idea._ Egon took his glasses off and wiped a smudge on his shirt. “You can take Ecto, no sense wasting your own gas.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks.” Roland narrowed his eyes, waiting until Kylie - who had made no protest what-so-ever - and Garrett had left for downstairs. “All three of us have to go?”

“Yes.” Egon grimaced. 

“To get 30 pounds of mushrooms at 7:30 at night.” Roland crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Of course Roland saw right through it. Of the three of them he was the only one who would really question it.

“I will give you twenty dollars right now if you will get out of my home.” Bribery at its best. Egon felt cold and a little sweaty in the palms, but a flush still crept up his ears.

“Nah, I get it, keep your twenty. Janine’s been giving us the stink eye every time we walk by her desk.” Roland grinned. “We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you four eat me out of house and home.” Egon deadpanned. 

Roland just waved as he headed down to the garage, allowing Egon to flee to the kitchen for some much needed sugar.

~~~

And just like that, the Firehouse was evacuated. Janine had to admit, the professor could figure things out on occasion. Not long after their supper arrived - she went ahead and paid for it herself - and they were finally alone to enjoy a rare evening together. Sandwiches were devoured without preamble, and, with similar lack of overture, they had found their way into his bedroom.

There really just wasn’t much time to waste, which Janine regretted, but hey, she’d take what she could get. So she pushed him back onto his bed, sat on his stomach, ignoring his soft ‘oof’, and stripped off her jacket and undershirt in a hurry.

He smiled at her and ran his hands down her sides, admiring her curves. Then he glanced at the clock sideways. “We do have about an hour and a half, you know.”

“Well, we’re an hour behind anyway,” she grumbled, tugging his sweater up.

He leaned up to oblige her in removing the offending garment, watching as she went to work on his placard. “Don’t be in such a hurry, I’m just saying that we have some time.”

“Hmph,” she grunted, finishing unbuttoning his shirt and going to work on his belt. She pulled it out with a sharp yank and he yelped.

“Yow! Hey!” He flipped her over onto her back, rubbing at his back where the friction had caused an uncomfortable heat. “Easy now.”

Janine smirked up at him and grabbed his collar, using it as leverage to get him close enough to kiss, humming into his mouth urgently.

Egon grinned against her mouth and responded by sliding his hands underneath her and unhooking her bra. “Alright, alright,” he rumbled, pressing his lips to her throat. “Just relax, let me.”

“Mm.” She kissed his shoulder and slid her hands around his back.

His hands wandered over her skin terribly lightly, raising goosebumps in their wake and just barely avoiding the places he knew she wanted him to touch.

She ran her fingernails down his belly, reaching for the waistband of his trousers. 

He hissed, grabbing her wrists and pinning them back out of the way. He didn’t grip them hard; he was never _not_ gentle with her, but she was ready _now_ and he wasn’t going _nearly_ fast enough for her.

Janine sighed and lay back, rolling her eyes. He was going to take his time no matter what she did, apparently. Might as well try to enjoy it.

He caught her mouth with his before she could protest, shifting so one of his knees was between hers ever so precariously. Cautiously, he let one of her wrists go so the hand could wander down to her skirt, skimming his fingers up the outside of her thigh.

She groaned into his mouth and squirmed until she was resting firmly against his knee.

He gave her a brief admonishing look before dipping back down to kiss her collar. “You’re being very difficult tonight.” He slid his knee away from her.

“I’m not the one being difficult,” she mumbled, then shivered as his lips wandered lower. 

“Oh?” he commented, unconcerned as he traced a lazy trail down to her--

_RING._

The phone startled them both. 

Janine felt the distinct urge to set it on fire. “Don’t answer that.”

Egon gulped and looked at her, dipping his head back down to-

_RING._

He looked back up at it.

She caught him by the collar again. “ _No._ ”

_RING._

“Egon Spengler, don’t you _dare_ -” she started.

_RING._

Egon gave her a pained look and reached for the phone with a mumbled “sorry.”

Janine groaned loudly and flopped an arm across her eyes.

“Oh?....Yes. ...I see. Glowing, you said? ...Are you sure it’s not a trick of the light? ...No need to yell, Ma’am.” He held the phone away from his ear and fumbled for a notepad, shifting so he sat on the edge of the bed. He scribbled an address down. 

“My team will be there in a couple hours, they are currently out on an errand...Yes, that’s as soon as they can be there. Well, I’m sorry, just lock him in the basement.” He sighed. “Alright, goodnight.” He hung up the phone.

“Now then, where were we...” He smiled.

The phone rang again.

Janine growled and stalked over to her bra, putting it on hastily, followed by her other things. “Go ahead, I’ll be downstairs.”

She stomped all the way down the stairs.

~~~

Forty-five minutes later she had answered twenty more calls and Egon had tried to apologise at least three times, promising he’d make it up to her. 

Typical.

She shot him a hard look before heading out the back door for a breather. She couldn’t stay mad at him for long, it was his job after all, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him squirm a little.

Make him think about exactly _how_ to make it up to her. She knew from experience he could be _very_ creative when pressed, after all, and why pass up the opportunity to push him a little if it was there?


	11. Mirrorball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Can't Get No Satisfaction. Extreme!verse Janine and Egon.

A week later found Janine staring in abject horror at the bill laid on her desk. 

“$640?! For...” She slapped a hand to her face. He could have been a little more considerate of their finances when he sent them out on a flippant errand like that.

Egon was currently standing on the other side of the office area, looking for their recent containment unit maintenance records. “$640 for what?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rolling her eyes and holding out the bill.

“Oh, this? Don’t worry too much, I was able to return most of them. I just said there was a mistake about the poundage, the proprietor was very understanding. Seems he had an issue with the store some time back which we took care of.” He grinned sheepishly. 

“Actually, I was hoping you could stay a bit later tonight, I have the return cash on hand but I’m not entirely sure where you want it put.”

“Then just hand it over and I’ll take care of it.” Janine held out a hand, palm up. 

“Not immediately on hand, and I really must take care of this first...” He gestured back at the file cabinet.

She sighed. “Fine then, I’ll stay after, but I’m going to miss my train.” And that relaxing bath she had been planning on. And that wonderful book she couldn’t wait to get started on.

“I’ll make it up to you?” 

“Mm, sure.” She waved a hand at him, heading for her desk.

About an hour later she excused herself for a bathroom break and came back to a hurriedly scribbled note on her desk and the Ecto gone. Apparently there had been a call and the kids had gone out to handle it. The note also said Egon was in the lab, and he had the money in one of his desk drawers up there.

She sighed and trudged up the stairs - the exercise was doing her thighs some good anyway - after setting the phones to redirect to the answering machine. Like hell she was picking up calls after hours. 

When she reached the lab, not unexpectedly, Egon was absent. A neat pile of money was sitting on one of the table though and she automatically picked it up to count out how much was there. $600, where was the other $40? She counted it again twice and came up still missing $40.

She almost left to take it back to the petty cash lock box in Peter’s old desk when she noticed something on the table. She picked up a fuzzy white robe with a frown. What was that doing here? She had initially thought it was a lab coat without really looking, but no, it was fluffy and smelled like dryer sheets. A note fell out of the inside and she picked it up, reading with a smirk.   
_  
Dear Janine,_

_I hope this note finds you in good humor. I intend to attempt to make last week up to you. Please help yourself to a bath and join me in the dining room in approximately forty-five minutes._

_\- Egon.  
_  
Well then. She swung the robe over a shoulder and strolled into the bathroom. The whole thing had been cleaned, at least as much as it could be, and a few more feminine bubble baths were spread along the sink. She lets her fingers trail over them, reading their scents. Jasmin, vanilla, cinnamon and sandalwood...She chose the last one just because it was a little more unusual and she had never tried it before. 

What followed was probably the most relaxing bath she’d ever taken in the Firehouse. No phone ringing off the hook. No Peter whining about the hot water. No explosions from the lab next door. Just a nice, long, warm bath and the drip of water from the leaky faucet.

Eventually she dragged herself out all pruned and warm, took her time drying off and cuddled into the white robe. It had a little green tinge to the bottom of it, but she wasn’t complaining because it nearly reached her ankles and was warm as all get out. 

She gave her hair a last flick to get the wet out and padded down the spiral stairs, attracted into the dining room by a delicious odor and her grumbling stomach. She headed for the table, noting that this room too had been tidied at least a little bit. She was pretty sure the clutter was stuffed into the lower cabinet, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She dragged a chair out and sat in it, admiring how spacious it looked without all the crap.

There was faint music playing, something which she realised wasn't so much for her benefit as for his. Music to cook by? She couldn't quite recognise the tune, but it involved cellos.

Egon must have heard her because he poked his head around the corner and smiled at her, a touch on the shy side. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she returned the smile.

“So...” He looked over his shoulder at something. Whatever he was wearing was indigo blue with flashes of bright color here and there, but he was half hidden around the corner and she couldn’t see all of it. “I had thought it might be wise not to waste all of the expenditure involved in getting those shiitakes...Is that acceptable?”

“Mmhm, I can live with that.” She rested her cheek on a fist. 

He looked a little relieved. “Good, because I think it’s all ready. No, don’t get up,” he held up a hand to forestall her when she made to rise and get her own plate. Shortly he appeared with a bottle with some sort of fancy label she didn’t get a good look at and two wine glasses. 

Apparently he was wearing pajamas with cautionary signs emblazoned all over at random. She hid a smile behind a hand.

He caught the gesture and flushed a little. “They were a joke gift from Ray, several years ago. I felt it appropriate to finally wear them, if only for your amusement.”

He fiddled with the cork on the bottle for a moment before popping it free. He set the bottle back on the table to let it breathe, then went back to the kitchen for a few moments. He returned with two plates and accompanying utensils, which he presented to her with an awkward flourish that almost landed it in her lap. She sorted them out for him whilst he dithered.

“Uh, heh,” he grimaced, seating himself across from her and pouring the wine. He pushed asparagus around his plate momentarily. 

All things considered, he was a surprisingly good cook. Stuffed mushrooms with spinach and asparagus. She’d tried some of his cooking before with mixed results, but apparently this was something he knew how to do very well. 

They ate quietly for several moments before he cleared his throat, shooting her that puppy dog look he very rarely used. “So...May I consider this an apology accepted?”

“I guess I could forgive you just this once.” Janine smiled at him coyly. “You did good. Where’d you send the kids?”

“I gave them $20 to get a pizza and go home,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Good thinking.”

He grinned over his wine glass. “Why, thank you.”

"Much cheaper than your last plan."

“That much is true.”

She swirled her glass of wine, setting her fork on the edge of her emptied plate. “So.”

“So.”

“What’s your next plan of attack, Doctor?”

“I thought we might watch a movie.” He laid his fork neatly across his plate and reached for hers and took the cutlery with surprising lack of clumsiness. He took them into the kitchen and left them in the sink for tomorrow’s washing.

When he returned, she was leaning back in her chair, snuggled in the fluffy robe. "Which movie?"

“I thought that I might let your choose, if a movie is what you want.” He reappeared, taking his wine glass and the bottle, leading her into the living room.

He had laid out a collection of VHSs on the coffee table, with a wide range of genres. A science film, of course, but there was also an action movie, a science fiction, and a romantic comedy, the last of which she chose without really caring what it was.

Ten minutes later they were settled comfortably on the couch, the movie was going - Janine really didn’t care what it was - and her head was resting against his chest so that most of the movie’s dialog was drowned out by his heartbeat. 

She did slide her hands under his nightshirt though, which he didn’t react to aside from squeezing her shoulders. She did manage to get his shirt unbuttoned so that she could lie her cheek against his bare skin, but really felt no need to go any further when she was this relaxed. The frustration of last week just seemed so far away in that moment.

He occasionally made a comment about the plot, seemingly unaware her eyes were closed and she really wasn’t hearing what he was saying aside from the baritone vibration cycling through his chest. Eventually she was so warm and satisfied that she simply dozed off.

Some time later she was vaguely aware of being carried and lain somewhere soft and dark. “Mm?”

Egon kissed her cheek lightly. “I have a little more work to do before I join you, if that’s alright.”

Janine rolled her eyes and closed them, too tired to really care all that much. “Oh alright,” she mumbled, snuggling up in what she figured was his bed. 

“Janine?”

“Yes Egon?” She still had her eyes closed.

He kissed her temple. “I love you.”


	12. She's On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mature audiences fic. Seriously, this is just straight up porn. Extreme!verse Egona and Janine.

“Thank you, Janine.” His eyes were lit up with renewed vigor, something he had lacked in since the Sphinx case. It had been as though he had quietly accepted his age and injuries catching up to him in such a physically demanding job. Not that he was all that old, but ghostbusting wasn’t exactly an easy job even for those who were in shape.

It made all the complications that had cropped up in this surprise worth it. She smiled at him wordlessly and picked up the wine glasses off the table, taking them to the sink. Now that the guys had left for their hotel rooms - after hours of reminiscing - the firehouse felt very quiet. Not an uncomfortable quiet, but one that she was aware of all the same.

She put the glasses in the sink and poured a little water into them, they would keep overnight. 

“It was good to see them all again - like the old days, as it were.” He had followed her in with the plates. 

She made a sound of agreement, wiping her hands on a dirty dishtowel and folding it off to the side. She glanced sideways as he began to fill the sink, apparently intending to actually do the dishes instead of collapsing at this late hour - what time was it anyway? Four? Five? Then again, he kept strange hours anyway. The man appeared to never sleep if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. 

She picked out a clean dish towel anyway. Might as well help if she was standing there. He leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms while the rumble of the old pipes filled the comfortable silence. He was so close she could smell the metallic scent of solder still clinging to his clothes from earlier in the day when she’d had to drag him away from some project or another. He’d muttered something about guessing it could wait a little longer when she’d hurried him out the door.

She studied him out of the corner of her eye. His long fingers tapped against his arm without rhythm. He was looking back into the living room, studying something across the room. He glanced back at her and a faint, sheepish smile flickered across his features.

“I’m sorry, you must be tired and I’m keeping you. It’s nearly five.”

She took a breath to deny it politely, but interrupted herself with a yawn. She held the back of her palm to her mouth to stifle it and sniffed, rubbing her eyes. “Not like I’m not going to be back in three hours. I might as well just stay up.”

“Nonsense, you can just have the day off.” He waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “I’m not nearly the slave driver Peter always was.”

She smiled, fond of the memories despite how much Peter had gotten on her nerves. “And you can handle all the billing on your own? Saturday is when I organize all that for the next week.”

“I...Well, I could figure it out.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll just do it. I’d rather not have to _re-do_ it.”

He grimaced, but accepted her judgement. If the last fiasco with a temp hadn’t proven anything, nothing would. “Well, at least stay here, it’ll save you the trip. We can arrange something...”

A month ago that offer may not have even come up, as innocuous as it seemed. Then again, just over a month ago she had not been transformed into a B-movie insect queen. Later discussion had led them to the conclusion they would need be discrete about any kind of relationship they chose to build on, mostly for the sake of their mutual academic careers. Their mutual paranormal related careers didn’t factor into it as much anymore, despite being in his employ. He just had to pass her raises through the other three partners instead of handling it himself.

She turned off the faucet and slid the dishes into the soapy water. It was warm enough that a light steam rose from the surface. 

Without prompting he reached in and commenced to scrubbing away the remains of birthday cake.

“Sounds like a nice enough offer. You got a plan for these arrangements?” She rinsed and dried as he finished, simply piling the dishes to the side.

He was silent for a moment and from the corner of her eye she could see him running the gamut of emotions; as much as he ever did anyway. He finally responded. “I thought I might take one of the spare beds down here, if that’s acceptable.”

“Mm. I had other ideas...” She purposely brushed against him on her way to put away the wine glasses.

She heard him inhale a little too quickly behind her and knew when she turned around he’d have trained himself - badly - back to neutrality. She just continued to put away the rest of the dishes, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.

“You...you know that’s not...” he stuttered, pulling the stop out of the sink and letting it drain.

“No one’s here. Slimer even followed Peter back.” She smirked, leaning back against the counter.

“But, isn’t this...rushing things?” He frowned and looked away from her, coloring from his neck up.

“Ten years.”

“Given, but-”

“No buts. _Ten years_. Now, if you don’t want to, that’s another story...”

“No! Oh no, don’t misunderstand, I want to. There are just outstanding variable factors that impact the decision...” His hands gestured; not the contained gesturing he usually did, but a wild flapping of the hands that indicated she had caught him entirely off guard. Really, the man was easy to put off balance.

“Then forget the variable factors for a couple hours. Not everything is equatable to a math equation.”

“That can be debated.” He gave her a slow, fond smile. 

“Oh, just shut up.” 

She gave his collar a tug and he obediently leaned down to her, pausing just before their lips touched. 

“Tomorrow, this isn’t mentioned. We maintain status quo until you graduate, as we agreed.”

“Oh God no, Peter’d never let us live it down. Ray and Winston wouldn’t be so bad, but Peter...”

He chuckled, a deep rumble in the back of his throat that made her skin tingle. “It’s Peter, I think he is physically incapable of anything else.” 

With that he leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, his hands on her shoulders.

She accepted the offering, but raised a brow to ask ‘really, that was it?’ 

He didn’t seem to notice, having gone back to contemplate the wine glasses stowed in the cabinet. “Janine?”

“Mm?” She contemplated him doing his contemplating, trying to decide if she should just be as forward as possible to get her point across. 

He colored slightly, fingers resting on the rim of one of the glasses. He smiled at her crookedly, obviously still a little at a loss. “Do you like opera?”

She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture she was only just aware of. What a weird question to ask. “Well, I’m not much on the singing, but the music’s nice I suppose.”

He turned away and drummed the fingers of his free hand on the inside door of the cabinet, frowning thoughtfully. The back of his neck flushed. “Would you mind if...?”

Oh.

_Oh._

Now she recognised the tactic for what it was. He was uncomfortable and trying to ease into the situation. Alright, she’d bite, it couldn’t be too terrible right? “Nah, I’ll give it a shot.”

His exhale was visible, his shoulders relaxed from the stiff position she hadn’t even noticed before. He threw her a quick, grateful smile and pulled two glasses down with the intent to refill them. He paused, just before reaching for the nearly empty bottle - a dry red, his personal favored type but not hers. “Why don’t you take a look at the selection? Pick something that sounds interesting to you.”

Sure, why not. She nodded, brushing her fingers across his back as she passed him and noting in satisfaction the way his back stiffened under even that light graze. She perused his small collection of compact discs stashed near the stereo. Most of the titles were foreign, probably Italian or German. She certainly had no idea what they meant. She chose one at random just because she liked the color and flipped it over to look at the back of it.

Mozart. At least that much was familiar. _Mozart wrote opera?_ She had been under the impression that operas involved fat ladies shrieking their lungs out in Valkyrie costumes.

“ _La Nozze di Figaro._ A good one, it has a very nice story.” He appeared at her elbow, peering over her shoulder effortlessly. He slid a half-full glass of wine into her free hand and took a sip from his own glass.

_Liquid courage might do you some good, Dr Spengler._

“What’s it about?” Janine flipped the cover back over, taking a hearty drink herself. She handed over the case so he could put it in the stereo.

“It’s a comedy actually, about Figaro and his wife-to-be Susanna. She is a maid for a Count, whom has less than gentlemanly intentions for her. He delays the civil part of their wedding, since Figaro is also one of his servants.” He gestured with a hand, having set the disc inside the reader. “You have heard the overture before, it’s extremely commonplace.”

“Oh?” She leaned around him, pressed the lid down, and hit play. Right he was, it was something she had heard before. “I didn’t know this was considered opera.”

“No one seems to realize that not all opera is women singing arias.” He rolled his eyes in a put-upon way. “There’s much more to it. A story, songs we consider classics. Much more than it seems.”

She smiled over her glass, settling back on the couch. “Seems like.”

He sat beside her, perched on the edge like a bird about to fly. Still nervous. He ran his right thumb around the rim of his glass distractedly, catching on the permanent burn scars. They weren’t quality wine glasses so they wouldn’t sing, but he did it anyway.

“So.” She crept closer to him, pressing her side against his and kicking her shoes off casually, tucking her legs beneath her.

“S-so...” He took another, larger, gulp of his wine and halfway choked on it. He put the glass down in a hurry and held a hand up to his mouth as he coughed into it.

She thumped him once or twice on the back before remembering you weren’t really supposed to do that for someone who was choking and instead began rubbing circles just below his shoulder blades. “Y’alright?”

“Yes, fine,” he wheezed. 

“Pretty sure you drink the wine, not inhale it.” She smirked, trying to defuse his embarrassment. 

He smiled weakly back at her, his brow knitted together. “I’m sorry, I’m rather at a loss here. This is...not my area of expertise.”

She set her glass down on the table and put her hand on his elbow, gently encouraging him to sit against the back of the couch. “That’s alright, this is sort of my bailiwick,” she murmured, catching his jaw in her other hand and making sure he couldn’t look away. 

His eyes darted briefly to the stereo, then back at her, his eyes wide and terrified and containing just a hint of desire. “Heh, ha ha...Nice word use,” he said, a nervous laugh and wine on his breath. “Did - did you know that bailiwick originally refers to th-”

She climbed into his lap. She recognised his chatter for what it was, nervous energy being expelled. 

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, pausing just a moment before hesitantly continuing his explanation. “-The jurisdiction of a bailiff, but is more commonly used now to refer to a metaphorical position of author-”

She silenced him with her mouth, pressing into him until he responded. He tasted like wine and vanilla cream icing. Slowly at first, but inevitably his hand came up and tangled in her hair. She made a sound into his mouth, protesting the tug on her scalp. 

He broke away, trying to free his hand painfully from her hair. “Sorry, I’m sorry...” he whispered.

“Ow! Quit apologising - ow-, Dr. Spengler,” she grinned invitingly at him. Of course it was harder to look sexy when someones hand was matted in your hair. She reached back and pulled out her hair clip, which in turn let his hand loose. 

His hands, now both free, hovered over her as though he really had no idea where to put them. 

She took charge, placing them firmly on her hips.

He glanced down at them and swallowed audibly, meeting her eyes again with that adorably concerned expression. “Um.”

“Hm?” She draped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her forehead to his. Their glasses clicked together. In the background voices surged in lyrical Italian argument.

“Your skirt is...It’s riding up.” He gently tried to tug it down without touching her thighs. 

She resisted the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. Chivalrous ‘til the end. “Maybe that’s the idea?”

“Oh. Sorr-mmph!”

She put her tongue in his mouth this time. 

He stiffened against her briefly and then simply melted. His hands shook where they rested; hell, his whole body shuddered. He made a soft sound, halfway between a sigh and a moan. It set her whole body on fire.

She let him go reluctantly, watching him gasp for breath with satisfaction. “Getting the idea now?”

He swallowed again, his eyes half lidded and his pupils blown wide. He glanced down at his hands, cautiously rubbing her hips with his thumbs. 

“I...may need a bit more education on the subject,” he rumbled through a shy little half grin she had rarely occasioned to see.

It was almost the corniest thing anyone had ever said when she was trying to seduce them. Somehow it was also extremely hot. She leaned against him, pressing her breasts to his chest through her jacket. She cleared her throat and tried to put on a serious expression, but couldn’t really get it out with a straight face. 

“Well, class is in session then,” she purred in the most provocative way she could. Then she snorted, pressing her fingers to her lips, trying to hide her grin.

He laughed. It started as a chuckle, his eyebrows raising, and became probably the most honest laugh she’d heard from him in many a year. He relaxed beneath her and pulled a hand up to rest against her cheek with a warm look. “I love you.”

She rested her hand on top of his. “I know.” She cleared her throat again and put on half a serious face. “Now, about your homework...”

He caught her by surprise by initiating a kiss this time. Still a little on the timid side, but all things considered she sure as hell wasn’t complaining. His hands wandered back to her hips, fingers pressing just enough to ground her without unintentionally hurting her.

She moaned into his mouth purposely and, as expected, he pulled back with a hint of surprise.

“Is that good? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He looked up at her and it struck her that otherwise he never had to look up at anyone, period. 

“Mm, very good. You um...Get a gold star.” She was reaching, so sue her.

“We can stop with the education metaphors, actually...” He smiled gently, squeezing her hips again very lightly.

“Oh, yeah, fine. I wasn’t sure if it was turning you on or not.”

“Not _that_ part so much, but thank you for trying it.”

“In that case.” She reached up and unbuttoned her jacket, tossing it haphazardly onto the chair. Her tank top was much cooler anyhow, the air around them had become increasingly warm. Then she reached down and caught the bottom of his sweater. 

He froze, his hands lifting from her hips and fluttering without real purpose. His breath was a gaspy whoosh. Somewhere in the distance someone was singing “Figaro” over and over.

She ignored his distress, yanking the sweater up until he had no choice but comply with her desires, leaving him with the white button up he wore underneath. She leaned over and kissed his neck just above the starched collar, leaving just a tinge of her remaining lipstick to stain it. She opened her mouth against the hollow just below his jaw.

He _whimpered._

He whimpered and shivered and his hands came up to the small of her back, his fingers gripping and loosening as though he were trying to find purchase on unsteady ground. 

She pulled away just enough to grin at him. So _that_ was what made him tick.

He stared at her, dazed and looking a good deal warmer under the collar. “What-”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Shut up, already. Just go with it.”

He seized her hand, kissing her knuckles. “If you say so.”

She pressed her nose to his throat again and was rewarded with a hitch in his breath. “I say so.”

“O-okay...”

“Shut up,” she admonished again, unbuttoning his shirt enough to kiss his collarbone.

His hands brushed the tucked in edge of her tank top questioningly. A quick look up showed he was biting his lip in an effort not to speak. Adorable. 

She tugged her shirt free and guided his hands beneath it, giving him something to new to preoccupy himself with. It let her finish with his shirt without having to stop for him again, baring a relatively smooth chest. There was a faint scar here and there, slicing through lean muscle and just a bit of pudge. She’d seen that much of him before, en route to and from the shower after a good sliming, but seeing it in context was so much better.

His fingers found the catch on her bra and paused there. 

She ran her hands over his chest, tracing his scars and giving him unspoken permission to proceed. 

With surprising deftness he had the catch figured out and loosened. 

She should have expected that, given who she was dealing with, but it almost caught her off guard regardless. Almost.

Instead of going directly for her breasts like any other guy would, his hands traveled up and down her back, pressing in the right places and loosening tension she hadn’t known she had been carrying. It was heavenly.

Eventually she got tired of the impromptu back massage though; any more of that and she might relax right to sleep there. Maybe that was the plan. She reached back and captured his wrists as they traveled back down, leaning back and guiding his hands under the bra cups to her breasts. 

“Oh,” he breathed, his eyes rounding. 

She kissed his nose where it was crooked, letting him adjust.

He pressed gently, the rough skin of his hands - hands that had worked - against her smooth skin sent chills down her spine and she opened her mouth to groan her satisfaction.

He muffled her by pressing his lips to hers, one hand sliding around to hold her in place while the other kneaded and squeezed. 

She grinned against his mouth, taking a shuddering breath when the pad of his thumb passed over her nipple. She reached up and pulled off her glasses, trying to put them on the coffee table behind her but not quite able to reach. She didn’t need them badly, so the lack wasn’t going to deprive her of the visual. Maybe if he was across the room, but that wasn’t going to happen on _her_ watch.

He took them out of her hand and set them down for her, momentarily releasing her breast so he could hold her steady as he leaned forward.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulder and kissed where his neck met his collar, leaving the last of her lipstick there. She leaned back a little, noticing he hadn’t yet straightened.

He had stopped moving, still half bent to the coffee table, and was staring at her over his glasses, his eyes dark and overtly lusty over something of a wicked grin. He was _leering_ at her.

Her heart jumped in her throat and she swallowed the lump back down. That was new, but _very_ welcome. She traced her fingers up his belly and he shivered, sitting back. She shifted in his lap and started to take off her shirt when his hands covered hers.

“Allow me?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He pulled her tank top up slowly, almost reverently. Every inch of flesh he exposed he ran his hands over, exploring and cataloguing. He finally tugged it gently over her head and set it aside, running his hands up and down her sides. 

She took advantage of his distraction to loosen the button and fly on his pants, biting her lip with a grin. A quick inspection let her know he was most definitely ready in the physical sense.

“Um...” He had halted once again, color rising in his cheeks and ears.

“Just relax.” She leaned forward and murmured it against his throat. 

He swallowed again. “I just...I’m not sure that now is...I d-don’t have any...” he stuttered, his hands coming away again and gesturing. He brought one up and wrapped his fingers in his hair.

She reached back and tugged his hair tie out, freeing his thinning mane. “Oh come on, you were all about it five seconds ago. Besides, I have us covered.” She jerked a thumb at her purse.

“But...right here?” He was entirely out of sorts. Where was that leer now?

She stared at him for a moment, narrowing her eyes. She let him think about it too much, that was a problem. So she solved it by just reaching into his pants.

He made a sound like a strangled squeak and nearly toppled her right onto the coffee table he jerked so hard.

She briefly thought about stopping just to let him recover his sanity, but really that would have gotten them right back to where they had started. So she retained her grip and glowered at him until he stopped panicking. 

“Ho...ho...Ha, okay, you’ve...you’ve made your point,” His grin was somewhere between being a terrified grimace and a manic grin 

She pulled her hand away and put both her hands on her hips. “Good lord, don’t you know anything about women? You’re forty years old, for crissakes. Pretty sure it was implied by starting this mess anyway.”

“Would you believe that this is only the second time I’ve been in this position?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” She crossed her arms across her chest. 

He looked decidedly disappointed at that. “Well...” He scratched at the back of his neck, glancing at the stereo. “I’m sorry, this is my fault...”

“Stop! Stop apologising.”

“But-”

“Oh, you are _incorrigible_!” She waved her hands in the air. “Unbelievable. I’m sitting here, practically ready to just molest you while screaming ‘take me now’, and you’re apologising! God, just shut up!”

“I’m s-Er. I feel the fault is mine, I’m just not sure I’m ready.” He looked as though he was afraid she would literally bite his head off. 

“Do you want me? Really? I mean, we’ve been playing this stupid hot and cold game for ten damn years.” She flipped her hands around her head and flopped onto her back on the couch with a loud sigh. “Ugh. I give up.”

“No, I _want_ you! Janine, you have no idea.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” She scowled at him over her chest.

"I _do_! It just... It doesn't. I can't..."

“Can’t what? You were rock hard.”

“I...” he mumbled something under his breath and looked away, ashamed.

“I’m listening.” She put a hand over her eyes.

"Everyone else seems to find it so easy. It's not that easy. I mean..."

She lifted her hand to look at him through her fingers.

“The first time for me was...awkward and unsatisfying for both parties. I understand the theory, but not the practical.”

“Is that it?” She sat up. “That’s all? You’re kidding me, here, right?”

“I’m being very serious!” He said, offended. “I experimented, it failed, and that was the end of it. I had no desire to repeat the experience.”

“Oh Egon,” she sighed, settling back against him. “That’s _everyone’s_ first time. Mine sucked out _loud_ , lemme tell ya.”

“Yeah?” He managed a wavering smile.

“Yeah.” 

"That's impossible to believe. You're..." He paused, searching for the right word. “Incredible.”

“You’re corny.” She poked him in the nose. 

“I’m _honest._ ” He almost sounded defensive.

She shook her head with a smile. “But it’s true, it sucked, and as far as I know its true for everyone.”

“Oh.”

She traced a finger down his chest, noting the goosebumps that raised afterwards. “So lets say we give you a better first time?”

He smiled weakly. “I would enjoy that, but, er...” He made a vague downwards gesture. “And this is hardly the place...”

She watched him for a moment before it hit her like a ton of bricks. Of course. 

“Then we’ll just have to change locale.” She got up with a smirk, grabbing her wallet out of her purse and pulling out the one condom she had stashed there. She flicked it into his lap and reached around behind her, unzipping her skirt and sashaying away. 

She left her skirt in a puddle on the floor just outside the lab.

It took him a minute, but he predictably followed her. His hands were clasped behind his back and he’d made no effort to remove what clothing he had left, nor to fix it. Her lipstick was visible on his neck. He cleared his throat, looking around the lab as though he didn’t already know the room upside down and backwards.

She leaned back in his chair, her fingers steepled while her elbows rested on the armrests. “Good of you to join me, Dr Spengler.” _Oh, that was cheesy._ Oh well, maybe he’d relax and have fun if not get turned on.

“Uh...How could I turn you down?” He questioned, trying to play along. His eyes kept flicking down at her underwear - white with cute little red toadstools on them, chosen with him in mind - and trying not to stare.

“Why don’t you come over here and we can do a little experiment.” She crooked a finger at him, no longer caring if it sounded like stupid porn movie dialog. If it got him there, it got him there.

“Perhaps I should...clear some workspace for the project first?” Still an awkward delivery, but at least he wasn’t fleeing in blind terror. 

As soon as he turned his back she rose and followed him across the room, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his back. “That can wait. I’d like you to have a seat first.”

His hands caressed hers. “Of course, as you say.” He allowed her to lead him back to his chair and press him down into it. He wordlessly handed her the condom, unsure of what she intended to do.

She put the condom on the table in arms reach and leaned over him, her hands pinning his to the chair arms while she kissed him slow and sweet. 

He leaned forward, feeling a little more eager now that he was in his comfort zone. He still had no idea what to do with his tongue, but that was alright, she liked to guide anyway.

She moved her hands to his chest, pressing into him until he was holding onto her waist and subtly pulling her towards him. She reached further down to his stomach, keeping his mouth occupied by her tongue.

He shivered and inhaled sharply through his nose, but made no move to get away from her. 

His hands traveled to her shoulders, discretely sliding her bra-straps down. 

She almost broke away to compliment him, but now wasn’t the time. She shrugged the remainder of her bra off.

Now she ran her fingers along the edge of his khakis and he jumped, but she simply put one of her knees over his and leaned into him further, not allowing him to panic. She dug her hands down, finding him once again ready. A quick squeeze and she pushed the edge of his slacks down, tugging and urging him out of them. After a few moments of this he finally relented, shimmying them down to his thighs. Then, and only then, did she break contact with his mouth.

He looked dazed again.

She went to work without delay, freeing him from his fabric prison and dipping her head low. She paused just before her lips parted over his glans to look up at him with a saucy smirk. He was long and skinny all over, apparently.

His arms were gripping the chair arms tensely and he was looking at her through slitted eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his chest frozen still as though afraid to move or even breathe. _Good._

She slid just the tip into her mouth, rolling her tongue and humming in her throat. He made a sound oddly like a sob. He shook all over even as she picked up a rhythm, one hand on his thigh and the other steadying his length, twisting upwards with every motion of her mouth. A hand rested shakily in her hair and he was mumbling something in between gasps.

She pulled back to brush her hair out of her face. "What's that you're saying?"

“-two thousand four hundred and fifty eight but then there's refractive index windows to affect the vector...” came out of his mouth in a hiss, the words half running together. His eyes were shut tight with concentration.

“Nevermind.” She went back to her work and felt as though she had just barely gotten back to it when he made a choked sound and gestured wildly at her.

“I’m...Janine...” He batted at her shoulders.

“Mmm?” she hummed, not stopping.

“Janine,” he sounded more urgent now. His hands tangled in her hair again and he didn’t seem to know whether he wanted to use them to keep her there or remove her.

She gripped his thigh harder, swirling her tongue and following it up with a twist of her wrist.

“Janine!” he barked. He shook with a whole body shudder, every muscle in his body tensing. His hand tugged at her head insistently.

She ignored him and swirled her tongue once more. Somewhere above her he made a keening sound in the back of his throat and his hips jerked involuntarily. She kept the rhythm, squeezing the base of his shaft.

“J-Jani-” he drowned himself out with a very loud groan and his grip in her hair changed, as though steadying himself. His hips gave a final twitch and, with a low growl she more felt than heard, he came.

Janine had never been much on the taste, but the results were not to be argued with. She licked her lips and ran a hand across her mouth while he lay limp and glazed over. “Good?” she smiled, leaning an elbow across his lap and resting her head on her arm.

He stared at her as though she were completely alien to him. “...Yes....Very pleasant.”

"Pleasant? What? That's all?"

“I am physically incapable of forming a more thorough explanation at this point.”

“That’s the idea.” She stood and stretched, walking over to one of the tables and inspecting the contents atop it. Her legs ached from crouching so long and she needed to move. He was silent behind her, aside from the weighty sound of his breath.

“Hungry?” she asked.

Hands caught her waist and turned her around. “Ravenous, actually.” There was the mad scientist leer again and somewhere along the way he had lost his boxers.

It was her turn to swallow her shock. 

He swept an arm across the surface, knocking all the experiments and devices onto the floor, then lifted her effortlessly onto the edge of the bench. She hurriedly swatted away the giant spider that had appeared from under one of the recently displaced experiments with a yelp before pausing and peering over the edge of the table.

She blinked down at them, a few of the whosiwhatsits appeared broken. “Uh, your...things...”

“I’ll fix them later, they’re not important.” He loomed over her so she had to lean back on the table. He held up the condom in one hand, wordlessly questioning one more time.

She nodded numbly, dumbfound by his apparent new found confidence.

With a quick motion he had the slippery thing figure out and in place. He braced his hands on either side of her hips and paused, taking in a breath and holding it while he looked up at her. His glasses were fogged into uselessness and dangled from his eyes carelessly.

She took them and folded them to the side neatly. 

“But I can’t see you clearly without them...” he mumbled and she was a little surprised by just how nearsighted he was.

“Well, then come closer,” she said softly, sliding a hand between them to guide him where he needed to go. 

He swallowed, glancing down - she wondered just how much he saw - and looked back at her. Damn, were his eyes always that dark a blue? She didn’t remember them being indigo. “Ready?” he whispered. He was getting that nervous air again.

She pushed her heels into his ass in response. His entire length slid against the outside of her panties. How had she forgotten about them? 

It didn’t matter, because he was going to address the problem. He flung open a desk drawer and rummaged around, discarding a handful of tools that did God-knows-what before he jerked his hand back with a gasp. He sucked a cut on his finger, mumbling “crumbs” under his breath before returning his hand to the drawer and withdrawing a large and _very_ sharp looking pair of scissors. They might have been sewing shears, but all she knew was that he had already cut himself on them and intended to use them on her.

“Uh...Maybe you should put your glasses back on?” She resisted the urge to squirm away from him. A half blind man with a pair of shears that size? More than a little intimidating.

“I can handle it,” he muttered, finding the smooth skin of her leg with one hand and sliding his fingers under the outer edge of her panties. 

Too bad, she had liked them while they lasted. Her skin tingled where his fingertips rested. She inhaled and held her breath as he slid the scissors between his fingers. The metal was cold as ice and raised goosebumps clear up her side. She tried not to flinch, but couldn’t help but make a soft squeak.

He paused and smirked at her, then carefully snipped clean through the fabric like it was butter  
He repeated the process on the other side, felt around a little on the table and set the scissors aside. “Now, where were we?”

“‘Bout here.” She ran her fingers down his belly and nearly got to her target when his hand came down on her wrist and pinned it back to the table. She looked up into a delightfully mad grin. “Whoa! Getting a little rough, Doc?”

His grin faded instantly. “Did that hurt?”

“No, keep going!” She squeezed his hips with her knees. 

He ventured a shaky smile, but didn’t let her wrist go. Instead, his other hand came to rest over her other wrist, effectively pinning her to the table like a butterfly on felt backing. He took a deep breath, aligned his hips, and slid forward agonisingly slowly. 

She bit her lip and breathed through her teeth as his glands pressed past her labia, slipping into her with little enough difficulty. Her hands clenched under his grasp and she wanted desperately to rake her fingers down his back. 

Still, he moved slowly and only stopped when he was hilted within. He breathed out, slowly and audibly, looking up at her with the grin of someone who had just discovered the world’s greatest magic trick. 

She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the way he filled her satisfyingly. A little thinner than she might have otherwise liked, but God help her if he didn’t reach places she didn’t know existed. “Don’t stop,” she croaked.

He complied, but for all his earlier aggression he was surprisingly gentle with her. Slow and ponderous even, as though afraid to risk hurting her. 

She jerked a hand away from his and gripped his buttock. “Faster,” she growled.

“Won’t it hurt?” He didn’t stop, for that much she was glad.

“Oh for...Just _fuck me_ ’ already!” She dug her nails in.

He grunted and his hips jerked forward with more force than she expected to get. The effect was not lost on her and she moaned aloud. He pulled away swiftly and came back with just as much speed.

“Oh yes, like that...” she hissed through her teeth. His hands went down to brace himself against the bench, granting her wish to grab hold of his shoulders, clinging for dear life while the only language between them came in gasps, groans, and the slap of flesh on flesh.

This time, she was first. It built in her toes, curling them against his thighs and swelled in her belly like a balloon about to burst. She dug her nails into his shoulders and managed only a gasping cry, waiting on the threshold she so desperately wanted and needed to step over.

He strangled it by covering her mouth with his own, humming into her as his panting breath cascaded down her cheek and tickled her ear. He broke away to breathe, too light headed to preoccupy his mouth much longer.

Cold sweat broke across her breastbone and back and her legs twitched of their own accord, muscles too tense to stop. She squinted up at him, framed by the rose glow through the window, staring back at her in amazement.

And the world just stopped.

Then it all came rushing back with the force of a hurricane. She held him, wailing into his shoulder while he tensed over her. His hands came down onto her hips and with a few more excruciatingly wonderful motions he joined her on the other side in a considerably more quiet manner. His lips met her neck and he mouthed at her skin and mumbled wordlessly against her, shivering.

They stayed that way for quite a while, in a cold sweat while the cool morning air sang with birds and road construction. She patted his back reassuringly. “So...Coffee?”

“Mmmm. Sleep, I think,” he smiled, tracing her jaw with a rough hand before pulling his warmth away and fumbling for his glasses. She picked them up before he found the scissors again and put them where they belonged. 

He turned away, plucking up the remains of his clothes before realizing most of hers were still strewn about the firehouse. He snatched up his lab coat and, with a slightly mischievous look, lay it about her shoulders. 

She shrugged her arms into the sleeves. “Egon?”

“Mm?” He pulled his slacks on carelessly, his shirt in a wad in his other hand. He disposed of the condom responsibly by shoving it as deep in his trash can as possible.

“You owe me a new pair of underwear.”

He smirked at her over his shoulder. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. You realize those are poisonous and psychoactive, right?” He gestured at the remnants of fabric around her hips. “Not exactly as inviting as you may have intended.”

“Trust you to over analyse.” She slid off the table and wrapped her arms around his waist, pushing the long sleeves back from her hands. Scratches were rising like so many welts on his shoulders and upper back, marking him as hers. “So what were you saying about sleeping arrangements?” she murmured.

He turned and swept her up in his arms, bridal style. “Consider arrangements made.”

The retired to his bedroom, where they slept until the overjoyed whoop of Peter Venkman discovering Janine’s discarded clothes terrified them awake.

“Egon you sly _dog_ you!”

They shared a mutual groan.


End file.
